


Losing the Battle...

by holdouttrout



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: Leia knew exactly who to blame for her current predicament… and since Han Solo had gotten her into this mess, he could get her out of it. Fic from a prompt by Erin Darroch: "Han helps Leia get dressed (pre-ESB)."
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Losing the Battle...

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by the lovely StarryEyedGalathynius, who is an absolute gem of an editor and a true pleasure to work with!

Leia twisted her left arm behind herself in yet another futile attempt to fasten the ill-chosen backup dress she had brought along. She had managed to get her right arm into its sleeve with difficulty, but it was useless for helping to close the neck of the thing. Blaster burns covering one's shoulder would do that. She had never expected to wear it, anyway--this was supposed to be a quick trip to speak with a new informant, after all, not an opportunity to practice dodging blaster bolts from every bounty hunter in the sector.

She scowled into the mirror. Not only had she been shot at, but the sensible outfit she'd worn on the way out had _also_ been destroyed. If she had a week, and industrial solvents, she might have been able to clean off the bloodstained trousers enough to wear.

More annoying, however, was the ragged hole burned through her shirt and jacket. This left her with a dress she had only brought along from Yavin because it was the one clean garment she'd had: a knee-length, soft, and clingy dress that closed with a row of buttons down the back. 

Her scowl deepened as she remembered exactly who was responsible for the remainder of her clothes still being in the custody of the base's laundry droid. And who had also, _not_ incidentally, been the reason she had gotten a blaster burn in the first place.

Han Solo was a menace to the galaxy. 

Trying one more time to fasten the dress, she gave up, glaring at her reflection.

Fine. Since Han had gotten her into this mess, he could get her out of it. Or into it, as the case may be. She knew where to find him. 

Palming open the hatch, she stalked down the corridor. Sure enough, he was lounging in his seat in the cockpit, feet up, as if he didn't have a care in the galaxy. 

She gritted her teeth. Just looking at him sprawled out like that made her shoulder ache, as if Han's ease was the direct cause of her present discomfort. She tried to ignore the small voice that insisted she was being unfair; Han had not only treated her wound but asked her if she needed help changing her clothes--with only the _smallest_ hint of an innuendo. That voice was almost as irritating as Han Solo himself, especially since it liked to point out all the other considerate or helpful things he had done for her over the short time she'd known him.

"Princess," Han said, turning to face her and stopping dead in his tracks, mouth agape. Was it because her dress was not properly closed? Or was it because of her expression, which she could only hope was currently shredding his carefree mood to pieces?

"It was the only thing I had," she said, defiant, holding her dress up and lifting her chin. "Since _someone_ blew the circuits for recharging the laundry droids."

Han winced, and Leia managed to stop herself from continuing the diatribe she had composed on the way to the cockpit. 

"In any case, I can't reach--" she grumbled, turning her shoulder so he could see the problem. "I got a couple, but it'll take me hours to do the rest."

He seemed confused for a moment, then dropped his feet to the deck and stood, a slow grin lighting his face. Gods, but he was _tall_. Leia tightened her grip on the dress, hating that Han noticed her reaction.

"Hazards of running a rebellion, Princess," he said, stepping around his chair to the back of the cockpit, bringing him much too close for comfort. "Turn around."

Leia hesitated, suddenly unsure about this plan. She knew he wouldn't take advantage, but she was always so aware of him, of how her body reacted _to_ him. It was ridiculous how he could make her feel so… vulnerable.

Han grinned. "Unless you want me to--." he mimed reaching around her with his arms and fumbling blindly.

He was already close, but with her back turned, Leia could feel his breath on her exposed skin. 

"I'll have to undo one," he said, after a moment, "It's in the wrong hole."

Leia bit her lip but nodded.

He didn't rush, but his fingers were swift and deft, only touching her skin when necessary to pull the dress closed. She should have felt less exposed as he did each one up, and yet, as he reached the small of her back, then her shoulder blades, and finally her neck, she became more and more unsettled.

His fingers lingered even after the last button was fastened, hovering just at the line where the top of the dress brushed the skin of her neck. "There," he said, but didn't move away. Instead, his fingers ghosted down the line of buttons, pulling each one just slightly before letting it pop back into place. 

"Can't say I'm too sorry about _this_ part of the trip," he said, voice low. 

The thin material of her dress was suddenly much too warm, too constricting. She tried to ignore both his comment and the way he made her feel, something that seemed to be getting more difficult every day. Casting about for a change of subject, she cleared her throat. "ETA?" she said, managing to sound more or less in control of herself. 

"Couple of hours," Han said. 

She hadn't looked at him since he'd finished buttoning her up, and she definitely didn't look at him now. With his tone entirely too smug, Leia knew that if she did, he'd just make a suggestive and _thoroughly_ unwanted comment.

And yet she turned. He was leaning back against the seat, casual once more, and as she saw his warm, knowing grin take shape, something in her gave up and waved a small flag of surrender, knowing the battle was lost.

She dragged her eyes away immediately, but the damage was done. "I'm going to rest until we're closer," she said, getting ready to beat a hasty retreat through the hatch.

"Sure," he drawled. She wanted to stay just to make him take that tone back, even though she knew she couldn't win this one. She had just ducked through the hatch when Han's next words made her pause. 

"And, Leia?" His voice was deep, inviting, and Leia shivered at the way he said her name. "I'm really good at _un_ buttoning, too, you know."

She clenched her jaw, forcing her lips not to quirk up, as they were prone to doing around him. And when she resumed walking down the corridor, she pretended she couldn't hear Han's low laugh behind her.


End file.
